Bookworm
by Aishiteru
Summary: Yuki's just released a new novel, and Shuuichi decides he has some reading to catch up on. ~NEW: Crappy Vignette for all! 100% Yuki Angst.
1. Part 1: SNOW

Yuki Eiri, Shuuichi mused sourly, had the ability to make grown women act like giggling school girls. Then again, he made _Shuuichi _act like a school girl, so maybe that wasn't so surprising.

He glared at the television screen, at the star struck talk show host who sat opposite his lover. She had the overly made up look of all talk show hosts, immaculate in a cream coloured shirt that displayed too much bosom, and a matching peach coloured skirt and jacket ensemble. Yuki, however, wore his perpetually bored expression, chin propped up on one slender hand, golden locks of hair falling at a charming angle in front of guarded amber eyes.

The camera zoomed in lovingly on that best selling face, then panned around the studio, at the mainly all female audience. The love struck looks in Yuki's rabid fan's eyes, and the squeals of "Eiri-sama!" were enough to send smoke billowing out of Shuuichi's ears. One could almost see the sparkling shoujo manga style lights pop up as the camera refocused on the writer.

"Eiri-san," the host giggled insipidly. "Regarding your new book, KOIBITO, many fans think that the heroine, Chiriko, is actually based on _your _lover, Shindou Shuuichi of Bad Luck. Is that true?"

As the camera swung back Yuki's way, Shuuichi was plastered against the screen, lavender eyes teary. _Yuki..._

"Saa," was all Yuki said, a long breath flicking strands of hair out of his eyes. "I really couldn't say. Certain...irritating attributes might have come from Shuu-chan." Squeals from the audience at the _adorable_ nickname, while Shuuichi deflated.

"YUUUKI!!!!" He wailed to the empty apartment, fists flailing. "So cruel..."

"-But you would have to agree, that Chiriko, and even the whole tone of KOIBITO is very different from the rest of your novels? Everyone is liking this change in style Eiri-san - it's refreshing to read something more upbeat, more _cheerful,_ of yours."

"I'm glad that my readers are enjoying it." He certainly didn't sound or look particularly happy.

"But Eiri-san, you have to agree, that KOIBITO does seem to slightly resemble recent events in your life?" The woman smiled. Shuuichi growled. "After all, all of your previous novels have been set in America, while KOIBITO is set in Japan, Tokyo no less!"

"Perhaps it might." The steely light in those tawny eyes, and that tone of voice was warning her to go no further. The talk show host gulped, and quickly reapplied her smile.

"Well, thank you for your time, Eiri-san. Perhaps some questions from the audience?"

"Eiri-sama! Would you go out with me?" Laughter. Shuuichi shut down the TV with a vindictive flick. Yuki had better not stray, or when he came home...

Of course, Shuuichi had known Yuki had recently released a book. Five months ago, the author had been practically barricaded into his study, meeting a deadline. But there were always deadlines, and Shuuichi hadn't thought much about it...

With a sudden pang of guilt, he realized that he hadn't even read one of Yuki's famed books. Not a one. And Yuki had never failed to turn up to Shuuichi's concerts, though he didn't tell Shuuichi he would ever be there. He just was.

Determination flashed into violet eyes. _Where's the nearest bookstore?_

* * *

Bookworm  
By Aishiteru  
Part 1: SNOW

* * *

Yuki was tired. Yuki was grumpy.

Yuki really just wanted his Shuu-chan to make him a drink.

The author fumbled with his keys, then quietly opened the door. That was strange - there was no stampede of footsteps thundering down the hall, no "YUUUUUKI!!!! I missed you so much! Welcome home!" hollered, nothing but....silence.

The brat was obviously asleep.

He made his way through the darkened apartment, into his bedroom. Peculiar...the sheets were flat. He patted them. No Shuuichi under there.

Where was he? Nakano was busy today with Ayaka, so he couldn't be at that guy's house, or at NG records...By all accounts, Shuuichi had said he would be home.

Maybe he ran out of Pocky. Typical.

The apartment door opened, then slammed shut. Yuki waited for the usual bellowing of "I'm home!" But there was nothing. Frowning, the author went back out to the living room, just in time to see Shuuichi peering into a bag, about to pull out-

"Yuki!" the singer exclaimed. He gave a nervous smile, and shoved whatever it was back in. "You're home!"

Eiri raised a finely shaped eyebrow. "Isn't that obvious?"

Shuuichi laughed, a little strained sounding Yuki noticed. "What on earth is in that bag?"

A fifty million dollar question. Shuuichi jumped to his feet. "Nothing!" The bag retreated behind his back. "Anyway, Yuki's not allowed to see! I'm putting this away, and no looking when I'm out, okay! You're not allowed to see yet!" With that, he was scurrying away down the hall, to the room Yuki had finally allocated to him, because his junk was infecting the whole apartment.

A quizzical look in his eyes, Yuki looked at his lover's swiftly retreating form, then shrugged. _Not allowed to see yet, huh?_

* * *

In the relative safety of his room, back propped up against the door, Shuuichi withdrew Yuki's first book from the pile. The nice girl at the shop had recommended he read them in order first, because "Eiri-sama only improves with every book, and his first was incredible, although really depressing."

The cover bore the word "SNOW" in stark western letters, heavily embossed to a silvery blue shine. In intricate kanji below, _Yuki Eiri_ had been printed in gleaming black ink, both title and name almost the same size. The cover was practically bare except for those three words, printed a pale cold white blue, with a barely visible veil of snowflakes falling behind the text.

He ran sensitive fingers over the smoothly textured cover, then carefully opened the book. Taking a deep breath, redolent with the sharp smell of fine ink and paper, he began to read, mist-purple eyes widening, anguished, as the brutally familiar tale unfolded.

* * *

_It had begun in the snow. It was fitting that it ended in the snow._

_Strange to think that Eiko had only met him a bare year ago. Walking through Central Park on her way back home from school, she had stopped when a trail of papers scribed with fine lettering had blown past, reaching out to seize them in mittoned hands. "Thank you," that light alto had gasped, the first time she had heard his voice. As she turned, the wind had gusted sharply, sending the pages tumbling from her grasp._

_She faced him again, tears streaking her face. Strange - just seconds before she had been so heated with righteous (_fearful) _anger, but now it had all drained away with that one fateful gunshot, and the cold was seeping into her. The snow was falling._

_"Sensei," she whispered brokenly. "Sen...sei!"_

_And with that, she collapsed to the floor, lifeblood flowing steadily from the gunshot wound at her breast. "Sensei..." Vision wavered, blurring the man in front of her, brown eyes starkly cold, all facade of warmth torn away. A gun smoked in his hand, a gun he had wrested away from her moments before. _

_.....Why do you hate..me...Sensei..._

_"Eiko!" The raw sound of panic. But not from him, never from him. The pounding sound of footsteps, quick up the stairs. Face set, Kitamura Akira moved quickly, ignoring her fallen form as the door shuddered inwards. She reached out with a pleading hand, but he was gone._

_Imploding inwards, the door smashed open, revealing Seiji's worried face, and disarrayed clothing. "Eiko," he moaned, throwing himself down, and pulling her cold form into his arms. His tears fell, freezing into her hair. "This is all my fault!"_

_The ambulance came quickly, bearing her away in a haze of flashing lights and blaring sounds. She wanted to tell them not to bother - that she was dirty, that she wasn't worth saving. That the person she loved most in the world reviled her, wanted her dead, so she should just die. But Seiji's gloved hand grasped hers, clasped against his forehead, blonde curls brushing against her hands. _

_"Please...live."_

* * *

"Shindou-kun? Is something wrong?" K looked at his singer, pale blue eyes curious. "Trouble with Yuki again?" A sinister smile.

Shuuichi waved his hands in denial, attempting a nervous grin. "Not at all K-san. _No problem," _He imitated his manager's bad English awkwardly.

K laughed delightedly. "_Oh no._" He stalked away still snickering, blonde ponytail bobbing.

Left alone, Shuuichi's face reassumed it's pensive expression. He didn't feel like singing. He didn't feel like writing. He just wanted to keep on reading SNOW. Why had Yuki made himself be the one shot? Why had Yuki written that most private story at all? And where was the 'story' going anyway? Right now, 'Eiko' was on the way to the hospital, and the police were searching for 'Kitamura Ueno.' Shuuichi's brow wrinkled. Yuki certainly hadn't tried very hard to disguise the people. The descriptions were the same as the living things, except Eiko being a girl and all, but even the names were pretty close. He supposed Yuki's fans wouldn't know anything about that incident, it all having been successfully smoothed over by Tohma, but for anyone who did know the barest facts, it was obvious!

_Yuki, you idiot!_

"Shuuichi, you might be able to momentarily fob K off, but we all know something's wrong. Spill." Hiro's amused voice cut into his musings. The guitarist of Bad Luck still looked smugly satisfied from his date with Ayaka.

Shuuichi shrugged, then decided to confess. He badly needed someone to talk about the books with, and Hiro was always insightful. "I'm reading Yuki's books. You're not allowed to tell him though!"

"Yeah, yeah. What's really wrong?"

Shuuichi frowned. "I want to finish to the book first. Can't I just read, while you and Fujisaki-kun compose? Pleeeease, Hiro?" He wheedled.

"You might as well. We won't get anything out of you until you do, right?"

"Right!"

* * *

_She learnt about what happened to her Sensei through the reporters. Before then, she had thought Seiji was protecting her by keeping her so isolated, but now..._

_"Miss Uotani! How do you feel about testifying against your former tutor?"_

_"Were you close?"_

_"Is it true that you were trying to shoot _him?"

_"The police caught him soon after. Apparently he didn't struggle. Miss Uotani, how do you feel about this entire situation? Mr. Kitamura could walk free!"_

_"Miss Uotani!"_

_"How do you-"_

_"Can we-"_

_"-What do you feel-"_

_"-interview, on the evening news-"_

_That had been the day she left hospital, still weak with blood loss. Seiji had rung his people, and since then the reporters had been kept efficiently away from her. She had been taken back to a remnant of her old life, her bedroom in Seiji's opulent penthouse apartment. Before, she had loved living there, basking in her brother-in-law and her tutor's constant companionship. Now it seemed like a cage, and oppressed her with unwanted memories._

* * *

Yuki scowled. It was too quiet.

Shuuichi had barricaded himself into his room again, since the early hours of the morning. The only time he came out was to eat, and it was pissing Yuki off. Especially since it occurred to him that this was probably exactly what he did to Shuuichi when he was busy writing. But that was completely different of course.

_Yeah right._

The blonde man was finally at the end point of his patience. "Shuuichi! Just what exactly is so enthralling in there?" He rapped impatiently on the door. There was a muffled thud in response, and a hasty rustling of something being stuffed back into a plastic bag.

Shuuichi appeared, looking a little flushed and disheveled. It appeared that he hadn't brushed his hair today. He was clad not in his usually obnoxious casual gear of baggy pants and brightly coloured tops, but rather in an ancient pair of tracksuit pants that only came up to midcalf, and a loose t-shirt that looked like it should have been used to wash cars a long time ago. Yuki growled.

"Just what are you doing?"

Shuuichi smiled innocently, violet eyes widening. "E-eh? Nothing..."

His eyebrows snapping together, Yuki shoved his startled lover out of the way and marched into the room. He was about to search for that mysterious bag, when a pink-haired missile launched itself at him, knocking them both over. "YUUUUUUUUUUUKI!!!!!!! I told you you're not allowed to see!"

Lavender met amber stubbornly. Yuki sighed and passed a hand over his eyes. Abruptly he yanked Shuuichi's head down for a quick kiss, the singer making a startled sound. "Hurry up and finish whatever you're doing." His voice was gruff.

A sloppy smile on his face, Shuuichi replied dreamily, stars in his eyes. "Hai..."

* * *

_They were all staring at her._

_Hard eyes, sympathetic eyes, curious eyes. None of them cared. None of them knew her. _

_Directly across from her, lean body clad in one of his formal suits, was her Akira-sensei, brown eyes empty. He looked calm, in control, a civilized wronged man taking the time to clear his name from the mischief of his former student. His attitude condemned her, and she looked down at her feet._

_"Miss Uotani, please explain the events leading to that day."_

_The words would not come._

_"Miss Uotani? ...The report you made at the police station...spoke of rape."_

_A sigh rippled across the audience. _

_"Did Mr Kitamura rape you?"_

_"....No."_

_"Miss Uotani, please. I know this hard for you, but it's important. In your statement, it says that there were two men...."_

_No, please, god, no. She was shuddering uncontrollably, huddled up on the stand. Please, don't make me show my dirtiness to everyone, don't make me show them, don't let them know, especially not in front of _him _again, please please please...._

_"Miss Uotani."_

_In a dry unemotional voice she recited what had happened. She was shaking so badly that her voice rattled at several points though._

_'C'mon, don't take all the fun Akira!'_

_'Yeah, we'll pay you ten dollars!'_

_'After you.' Palely accented English, that last words she had heard that beloved clear voice say._

_'Sensei...' _

_Hands all over her. She couldn't breathe, and at last she couldn't speak. "-I don't know who they were. Sensei knew - they called him by his name, and gave him ten dollars. Then he left, and they..." She couldn't breathe, her chest was tight with too many conflicting feelings. She wanted to run. She wanted to hide. She wanted to scream. _

_She wanted to kill him._

_"Miss Uotani, what happened after?"_

_Silence, thick and heavy like smoke in the room. The eyes were overwhelmingly sympathetic. She didn't want it._

_"They left after- ...after. I went home. I burnt my clothes. I had a bath."_

_-Limping home, body in torment, clothes in ragged torn strips. Scorchingly hot water, and the rasp of soap again and again on her skin-_

_"Then, I got Seiji's gun from his study, and I went to Kitamura-sensei's house."_

_"And then?"_

_"I confronted him at gunpoint."_

_'Sensei! Why!? Why did you do that? Why do you hate me?' Screamed words, torn from her throat, demanding an answer. Those once-soft understanding eyes mocking her, refusing to reply. _

_"He wrested the gun away from me. Sometime....it went off. I was shot."_

_"Was Mr. Kitamura the one who called for the ambulance?"_

_"....No. Seiji did that."_

_"What _did_ Mr. Kitamura do?"_

_"....He ran away."_

_"Did he try to help you?"_

_"......"_

_"Did he try to help you at all?"_

_"...No."_

* * *

Shuuichi flung the book across the room, and wept.

* * *

Yuki knew something was very wrong.

After days of doing nothing but his mysterious activity that Yuki wasn't allowed to see, Shuuichi had emerged, tears running down his face, and flung himself into Yuki's arms, refusing to let go. The author still hadn't been able to extract himself, even after his sobbing lover had cried himself to sleep, face buried in Eiri's shoulder, completely ruining yet another shirt.

So he sat in his twilight lit apartment, musing on the city's starkly black horizon line against the flaming orange and rose sky. One hand absently stroked through pink tinted locks, and down the long curve of the neck, pulling between curved shoulder blades for a moment, then returning. He really should be starting to draft a rough plan for his next novel, but he was unusually content right now, and didn't feel like it. Shuuichi was a warm heady weight in his lap, arms twisted around his neck, head nestled in the curve of his shoulder. He sighed in his sleep, and cuddled a bit closer for comfort. Yuki allowed himself to smile briefly. It wasn't like there was anyone to see it.

He sighed for a moment. It was still hard admitting the brat had wormed his way into a permanent part of his life. Unnerving even. And harder still to admit that he missed the pink haired ball of energy when Shuuichi was touring. Or locked up in his room, busy. Or an hour late from going out with Nakano.

Very hard.

"Yuki?" His heart jumped slightly at that weary tear strained voice.

"What."

"Nothing."

They sat there together for a long time.

* * *

_Eiko still couldn't quite believe it. _

_Kitamura-sensei was dead. _

_It had been months since the trial. Months since the last of the newspaper coverage had died down, and she could at least walk out in public without people accosting her, in accusation of her besmirching an innocent man's name, or in useless pity._

_It had been months since Kitamura-sensei had walked free of that court room. _

_And now, a week since he had died in a car accident._

_Seiji had smiled._

_He had an arm wrapped around her shoulder now, as she stared disbelievingly at the grave. The graveyard was a quiet peaceful place, framed with bright borders of brilliantly green grass, bathed in sunlight, shadow dappled by the trees. A place much like the one they had met everyday, under the trees, and he had turned those silently smiling eyes in her direction as she raced down the path, and called his name eagerly._

_And her eyes burnt bright with tears, and her breath caught, reading those stark unchangeable words again and again. _

_Here lies the body of  
Kitamura Akira  
I hope to heaven his soul has gone._

_Seiji took her arm, and led her gently to the car. They were going home._

* * *

The book lay there, seemingly simple and innocent with it's glossy cover, and sharply edged pages. Such a deceptively slim volume for all it contained.

Shuuichi was coming close to loathing it.

Not because it was Yuki's writing. But because it was the expression of Yuki's pain. How had he written that? How could he bear the pain of thinking, of describing that time?

_Mika-san was right. Even though Yuki told me everything, I still didn't understand him...I still can't understand him. How can I? What am I supposed to do?_

With a small sniffle, Shuuichi padded across the room, and stowed the book back away with the rest of the books. A title, printed in red caught his eye. The newest of Yuki's books - written when Shuuichi had been present to bug him, coax him into late deadlines, and play silly tricks. A book written in between their arguments, and their quieter times.

KOIBITO.

_"We're lovers. This is something very precious to me, even more then my writing."_

"Yuki," Shuuichi breathed. With gentle, reverent hands he lifted the book from the stack, and flipped it open to the first page.

* * *

_To be continued..._

_Author's Note: Oh dear, I've started writing Gravi fanfiction. Fear not, I am also half way through the next chapter of Meiji Heights (my Kenshin fanfic). Although, be afraid, readers of _Grown_, I'm hopelessly stuck with Kuja again. And it's going to have a SAD ending, mwahahahah!!!!! Besides, this story shouldn't be more then another chapter. _

_Anyway, I hope you all liked it, and that the characters were reasonably in character. My friend, and this time beta reader said that Hiro sounded scarily like me. sweatdrops._

_Anyway, this fic was supposed to be part angst, and part humour, but it looks like the angst part took over. Oh, well, should be more upbeat next chapter. _

_R & R onegai shimasu!_


	2. Part 2: KOIBITO

Yuki was stuck.

Once again entangled in that most terrible of curses, the incurable scourge of the world of fine literature, that thing called -

Writer's block.

Absently, he was tapping _S_ on his keyboard repeatedly, a pen grasped between his teeth, while golden eyes darkened ominously, and his unlined brow furrowed. With a small sigh, he abandoned both the laptop, and the mounds of screwed up paper that were littered around his desk, each one bearing only a few words in his slanting script. He perused his book lined shelves, eyes running over the neatly bound covers of books he had enjoyed reading, textbooks, and at the bottom, his own novels. His fingers seemed to have gained a life of their own, as he bent and softly slid out his latest, KOIBITO. The dedication was printed on the very first page. It was short and to the point.

_Don't get too excited by this, brat._

It wasn't like Shuuichi was going to see it anyway, or realize that it was the only book Yuki had ever dedicated to someone. The only books Yuki had seen in his hands were his monthly issues of manga, brightly covered covers and storylines of unrealistically beautiful heroes, and overly energetic characters like himself. And of course, the Bad Luck and Nittle Grasper doujinshi. He had heard several horrified squeaks when his lover was reading them, and most had been tossed straight into the bin. _"Sakuma-san would _never _do that!"_

Running a slender hand through strands of blonde hair, he decided to get another cup of coffee. And maybe see what his pink haired little idiot was up to now.

* * *

Bookworm  
By Aishiteru  
Part 2: KOIBITO

* * *

_It was definitely strange, for a man who had cut off as many ties as he could to the outside world, to have a phone that rang as often as his did. _

_Ring. Ring._

_He let his voicemail take it again._

_"Ryuji! Why aren't you answering? Why didn't you show up last night? I was waiting for you for hours....I made dinner and everything....why didn't you come?"_

_Because you're boring me. Because I'm finished with you._

_"You're a bastard, Takasugi! You know that!? Don't expect to hear from me again, you jerk!"_

_They all said that. She'd ring back in ten minutes, cringing, apologizing. _

_He made a mental note to change his cell phone number._

_He idly lit a cigarette, and inhaled. He could almost feel the pollution seeping into him, the mellowly bitter taste of ash and smoke curling along his tongue. So utterly pointless, yet addictive, like so many other things in his life. He leaned back, the tight leather of his chair creaking, and stared at the ceiling. Smooth blank white plaster met his gaze, stained a barely perceptible yellow-grey from his incessant chain smoking. The apartment was new._

_Blank. Empty._

_It was only fitting. Everything was._

* * *

Kumagorou ruled the corridors of N-G Records with an iron first in his furry little rabbit paws. Ryuuichi merely obeyed everything he did....It really wasn't his fault na no da! The vocalist of Nittle Grasper wandered the halls, a disconsolate expression on his usually cheerful face. Eyes welling up with tears, he pulled on the ears of his ridiculously oversized Kumagorou costume. Kumagorou really wanted him to sing with Shuuichi, and Shuuichi wasn't ANYWHERE!!!

"SHUUICHI!!!" He wailed. "Stop hiding! It's mean na no da!"

Silence, and then Tohma's gentle laugh.

"Are you looking for Shindou-kun, Ryuuichi?"

Pouted nodding. He didn't bother wondering where Tohma had suddenly appeared from.

"Shindou-kun's been with Eiri-san lately." A slight lilt to his words spoke volumes.

"Eh?"

"He's been staying home, while Suguru and Nakano-kun compose. Trying to get out of another slump, I suppose." Tohma smiled, aquamarine eyes moderately amused. Tohma never allowed himself to slump, physically or mentally. 

"Uh? Ah! Maybe Kumagorou can help him, Kumagorou always helps you, right Tohma?"

Another laugh. "Of course."

"Tohma, can you drive Kumagorou to Shuuichi's house?"

* * *

_A long still breath. Smoke bloomed in a long twisted veil of hazy grey, obscuring the rigid lines of his crowded bookshelves for a moment. _

_It was way too quiet. He stubbed out the rapidly disintegrating cigarette, and after an extremely brief moment of consideration, lit another. _

_The clock's ticking echoed hollowly from the living room. He really should've gotten a digital one. _

_Abruptly, he shoved away from his desk, and stood smoothly, a frown marring features women swooned over. Slippered feet rasped over smooth floorboards, and he paced the spacious apartment impatiently, feeling caged and edgy. _

_What was wrong with him? Takasugi Ryuji needed no one, wanted no one. He was the one _other_ people sought out eagerly. People were always worried about _him, _not the other way around. Why then, was there this flaring edge of anxiety burning in his chest? Why was it that he couldn't keep still, and his eyes lifted, compelled to the clock, which strangely hadn't moved at all since he had last glanced at it? Surely- surely it was just a nicotine rush. He had intended to cut back soon anyway._

_He lifted the cigarette back to his lips, and took a long relieving drag._

_The doorbell rang._

_Before he knew it, somehow he had flung the door open, and glared down at the bell ringer. "You're late."_

_She grinned up at him, not at all intimidated, one hand coming up to scratch her head sheepishly. "Sorry, Ryuji. Practice went for longer then I realized, and before we knew it, it was really late!" She brushed past him, and he turned to watch her, reluctantly placated. It was so typical, so annoying, yet somehow..._

_Kudoh Chiriko wasn't conventionally or even traditionally beautiful. Her features were somehow too sharp in places, too rounded in others, the mouth too pouted, the eyes too large for common beauty. But there was something about those mobile features that fascinated Ryuji - they never lied to him. She was so completely, vulnerably open - her emotions constantly danced on her skin. Currently, her brow was furrowed, nose scrunched tight, as she balanced precariously, one-legged, digging a shoe off with her other foot. Shoes disposed of, she turned back to him, and smiled widely, a nameless emotion shining in violet eyes. It disquieted him- it made his heart clench in a terrible physical way that had nothing to do with lust. _

_"Where are your keys, anyway?" He asked her grumpily, shuffling past in slippered feet. _

_"Ehehe.." she laughed nervously. "I left them here this morning, in my other pant's pocket."_

_"Hmn. Typical."_

_"Ryuji! You're so mean! It's all your fault anyway..." She pouted, hanging onto his arm._

_Said pants had been quite hastily discarded last night. A slight smile tugged his lips. _

_"Ryuji smiled! I made Ryuji smile! Hee hee!"_

_"Oh, shut up. Little idiot." _

_They sat on the couch, and she promptly laid her head in his lap, curling contentedly up next to him, while gazing up tiredly with adoring eyes. "It was a good day," she yawned. "But I missed you."_

_"Moron. You only saw me this morning - how could you miss me already?"_

_"But I did! It was in the _morning- _ages ago. Of course I missed you!"_

_There was that feeling again - that intense surge of- of something. He didn't love her. That wasn't possible. Takasugi Ryuji didn't even know _how_ to love anymore. And he knew that she wasn't right for him at all- too loud, too young, and far too brash. She was always demanding his attention. She was annoying. And surely, soon, very soon, he would get bored of her. He would be able to flick her away, discard her without hesitation or regret._

_But nonetheless - when she smiled at him like that - when she _said _things like that, openly and without any thought at all..._

_A muffled sigh , and her head suddenly became much heavier. She had fallen asleep - she was always exhausted after rehearsals. Her features relaxed in peaceful slumber, she looked like what all the clichés said sleeping beauties should look like. Young. Defenceless. And so very fragile. You wouldn't have realized from when she was bouncing around energetically, when she was speaking so animatedly, just how slight she was. _

_She was, he decided, very beautiful._

_He ran a careful hand through her hair, and the loose shining locks tumbled heedlessly through his caress. _

* * *

The doorbell rang.

Yuki looked up from his scribbled planning. "Oh, for god's sake..." At this rate, he was never going to get a rough draft of the first chapter out before the end of the month. He shuffled out and opened the door irritably. 

"YUKI-SAN!" Mouth slightly ajar, Yuki watched as Japan's favourite idol, Sakuma Ryuichi himself, skipped past him, resplendent in a voluminous bunny suit. A miniature replica was perched on his head, centred precisely between the floppy pink ears. "Ne, ne, Yuki-san, where's Shuuichi? It's not nice to not share Yuki-san! SHUU-ICHI!!! WHERE ARE YOU!? STOP HIDING!!!!" 

Yuki winced. The windows rattled. Definitely a singer's lungs. 

A rumpled pink head poked itself out of Shuuichi's doorway. "Eh? Sakuma-san? What are you doing here?"

That was something Yuki also would've liked to know. He looked on somewhat sourly, as Shuuichi's god happily glomped him. 

"Hello, Eiri-san."

Perfect. Yuki sighed inwardly, and prepared himself for another painfully strained talk with his brother-in-law. He had barely even noticed Tohma was there, with the only thirty year old kindergartener in world to distract him. 

"Tohma! Shuuichi hasn't had dinner yet, and neither have I, and we're hungry!" Ryuuichi looked turned imploring eyes towards his keeper. "And you can't tell Noriko I forgot to eat again, she'll get mad at me..." Big, watery, imploring eyes. 

"Of course," Tohma said, as if it was the most natural thing in the world. "Where shall we go to eat?"

"McDonalds na no da!" Ryuuichi chirped, all his troubles quietened. "Kumagorou doesn't have the latest toy...and he WANTS it!" He ran out of the room, dragging along a stunned Shuuichi. 

Tohma smiled. "Eiri-san, shall we?"

* * *

They went to McDonald's - two adored pop stars, an equally famous author, and the President of NG Records. The sight was enough to send millions swooning. Luckily Tohma had remembered to bring along Ryuuichi's baseball cap, and a spare for Shuuichi, rightly suspecting both idols were too scatter brained to think of it themselves. The restaurant was empty, except for a harassed looking woman herding five screaming children, and a man slumped in a corner, absently picking at the pickles in his burger. 

"The toys in America aren't very good at all, all plastic and icky and boring, and no fun to throw around na no da. Japanese toys are much more fun!" Ryuuichi said earnestly. He clapped his hands to make his free robotic dog bark again, and laughed delightedly. "But Kumagorou is superior, but Kumagorou isn't a toy, Kumagorou is Kumagorou, ne, ne?"

Shuuichi looked shocked. "Of course!"

Ryuuichi quickly hugged his pink bunny close, one floppy ear falling over the lopsided nose. "I never thought anything else though, Kumagorou! Don't mistake me!"

Kumagorou made no reply, strangely enough. It's beady black eyes reflected the harsh fluorescent light.

"KUMAGOROU'S MAD AT ME!" The raw power of the singer's voice was once again demonstrated, and Shuuichi fell over himself convincing that Sakuma that no, Kumagorou wasn't mad at him, he was just very hungry. Ryuuichi promptly mashed a handful of fries near his beloved's head, and told his bunny to eat up.

Tohma calmly ate his fish burger. 

Yuki picked at his own food. He hated McDonalds. It was so damn American.

All in all, this was shaping up to be a very strange evening. And a while a good part of that was due to Sakuma Ryuuichi, that wasn't all of it, amazingly enough.

Part of it was Shuuichi's behaviour. The little idiot had been sending him strange looks all evening, when he wasn't distracted by his god's antics. It followed a predictable pattern - Shuuichi would look at him, stare, blush, look down, sneak another look, blush even harder, then look away. Distraction. Then repeat. It was like in earlier times all over again - after Yuki had gone to his concert. After that notorious press conference just outside the old apartment when he had told the reporters the precise nature of their relationship. The same shyness, the same blushes, that same irritating wonder in those large violet eyes. He supposed part of the strangeness was that he never actually went out in public with Shuuichi. 

He ignored the quick stab of guilt. If Shuuichi wanted to go out, he could say so. And the singer had never said anything at all to that intent. No, he was simply too happy to even be in Yuki's presence....

He shook his head, and resumed eating, in grim bites. Tohma's eyes were concerned, and did not stray far from his direction.

* * *

_It had hit the rock bottom for Ryuji. Things had come in a full circle, and he could not deny his past, try as he might._

_Eyes bleak, he stared at the gun in his lap, the smooth gleaming curves of oiled metal, the rough leather grip. The trigger._

_His answer._

_He picked it up. It was so familiar in his hand; it felt like it belonged there._

_--Violet eyes, desperate, imploring, the frantic grip of slim hands beating butterfly strokes against his chest, "whywhywhywhywhyRyuji"--_

_He had told her something inane. He didn't remember the exact phrasing, something about her being annoying and bad in bed. He could remember the terrible way her face had crumpled in that split second, the full strike of his words coming home, the weight of his opinion, of how much she cared about what he thought about her. Strange really, that he only realized the full extent of their inexplicable irrational bond when he was severing it. _

_His chest hurt again, and he could feel the metallic tang of blood in his mouth. _

_Things had been- changing. He had even told her about his past, as difficult as it had been, battling the spectres of his memories. He supposed he had naively -oh god, he was still so naive, even after everything that had happened- believed that once he told her everything would be alright, that his demons would be laid to rest in the light of her eyes._

_It hadn't happened though. _

_Instead she had gazed at him in helpless sympathy, and he could have drowned in her pity. She couldn't do anything. She couldn't help him - what had he expected? That she would make everything better?_

_Yeah right. _

_And then she had slipped away. "I'm getting a drink," and he was lost. He was seized by his past, and no matter how everyone said the past couldn't hurt you, it _could._ So he pushed her away. All he could do was taint her blessed innocence, obscene smoke on smooth white walls, and she didn't need that. She didn't need him, all he could do was hurt her, push her away, and make her cry. _

_He dropped the gun, and laid a hand against his eyes. He needed a smoke._

_He fumbled in his pocket for a cigarette and his lighter. _

_And then stared._

_She smiled up at him, captured in a small fraction of a second, mouth wide in a joyous smile, her arms thrown around his neck. He in turn was trying not to scowl, he had been feeling distinctly irritated, but he had promised he would take her out. Do things her way. That included eating cotton candy, having her wrapped around his arm, having his eardrums ruptured while she screamed during the roller coaster, and walking around aimlessly while she pointed out random things to him. _

_He had expected it to be a horrible afternoon, to try his patience to the limit. He had expected it to make him thoroughly sick of her at last._

_It hadn't. _

_Instead, it had convinced him to finally tell her everything. He couldn't say why. It was an endless golden day in his memory, a day that had in the end been tainted by his past. Another thing tainted by his past._

_He picked the gun up again. _

_"RYUUUUUUUUUUUUUUJI!!!"_

_His head jerked up at the long wail that proceeded her. The door slammed open, and she was there, breath gasping in and out, her eyes wide and relieved. _

_"Do you think you can escape from me? Even if you try to escape or die, I'll search and find you. Because I'll never forgive it! Because I love you!"_

_"...You..."_

* * *

Yuki knocked on Shuuichi's door. "I'm coming in."

He was sealed up in his room again, as soon as he had said respectful goodnights to Ryuuichi and Tohma. It was really starting to irritate Yuki. He wanted Shuuichi back. He couldn't win. The brat distracted him whether or not he was actually present now. It was ridiculous. 

There was no answer, no reaction from within.

He opened the door.

Shuuichi lay slumped over the table, strands of rose hued hair trailing across the pages of a book. His breathing was deep and even, and even Yuki had to smile at the endearing picture his lover made. Slightly open mouth, drool and all. He walked over, and gathered the slight form into his arms. It was definitely time for Shuu-chan to go to bed. 

He paused, as his eyes automatically picked up a phrase from the book Shuuichi had been reading. It was on the last page.

_--"Do you think you can escape from me? Even if you try to escape or die, I'll search and find you. Because I'll never forgive it! Because I love you!"  
--_

Black flared on amber, and he flipped the book around.

His own name greeted him.

_"..You.."_

_--There was that feeling again - that intense surge of- of something.-- _

That little sneak.

Well, at least Yuki knew what he had been up to these last few days.

Thoughtfully, Yuki closed the cover of his latest novel. It had been hard to write, but like SNOW, had helped sort himself out. Made money too. He wondered what Shuuichi made of it. 

Perhaps he would ask in the morning. Probably not. The little fool would probably babble out his opinion of it soon, anyway. 

He rose smoothly to his feet, Shuuichi tucked trustingly in his arms, even in sleep turned into his embrace.

The lovers went to bed.

_Owari._

* * *

_Author's Note: Okay, there is a fic that had practically no point. It was all gratuitous Yuki/Shuuichi fluff in the end wasn't it? Sorry, I felt that the excerpts of Yuki's novel weren't quite as good as I wanted them to be. They were kind of boring...And I had to completely rewrite them too! The first version sucked even more then this one did. Oh well....Ryuuichi is so much fun to write. I hope he was in character. Wow, I actually finished a fic! Will wonders never cease....I think for my next Gravi story, I want to write a Nittle Grasper beginnings fic. Would you all be interested? _

_Review Reply:_

_Blueraingurl: Yeah, I couldn't really see him telling Shuuichi the kind of things he writes. It wasn't really all that much more light hearted. Dang._

_5:38AM : I rather liked where I ended it actually. *evil grin* Well, sorry if KOIBITO was disappointing...it ended up being a recap of Gravi._

_silvercross:......idea? There was an idea to this?_

_panatlantic: Thank you!_

_Wakuchan: ^___^ back at you._

_katie: promising....uh...i'll leave the final judgement up to you._

_Katsumi: Give up reading fanfiction! O.o I'll admit there's a lot of junk, but there's so many GOOD fics out there too! *nudge nudge* Ne, are you going to update Hitori? You got me reading Gravi fics properly._

_Megamie: Heehee. Thank you. _

_P.S Speare: Beautifully fluid...smooth ....*big teary eyes* you silver tongued devil you. ^__^_

_Meriennut: Moulin Rouge! Oh yeah!....Or not quite. Yuki singing....a scary thought. And of course we have to be sympathetic to poor Yuki...*cries* damn you Kitazawa. _

_Midnight Tigress, Green: Thank you! Sorry the update took so long. _

_Bakayaro Onna, e?: It is isn't it?_

_Kelly: O.O NOT WATCH GRAVI!!!!?????? Shame! Shame! How could you not! Oooooh....Steal your friends copy of Gravi now!_

_Ayako: .....Yeah! GO ME!!!!!_

_Sakura, Sephy: You idiots. I don't have to reply to you guys, 'cos your my friends._

_Kiora: Ah! Perfectly portrayed....thankyou! I tried really hard to keep them in character._

_novasenshi: Eeek! *runs away while NS is spluttering*_

_LB, jmccall93, incoherence, ChibiKitty, Kamikakushi, kazuki: Sorry for the group reply, but I have to get off, my mom is starting to yell...Thanks for all the encouragement, it really helps! And there! I updated!_

_Shenya: *cheesy grin* Reviews _never _go astray. I read every one, rest assured. _

_Thanks for reviewing everyone!_


	3. Vignette: Muse of Mine

It was sunny, the day that Tohma took him home. Sunny like the day that (_he killed) _Yuki-sensei had died. Sunny like the day they had visited the grave, like it could provide Eiri any closure at all. Sunny like that most terrible day of all.

Don't think about it.

Eiri closed his eyes wearily, then opened them straight away. He didn't want to close his eyes ever again - what played out on the back of his eyelids were things he never wanted to see again. Concentrate instead on the sunlight filtering through the tiny windows of the plane - of the distance shrunk people outside waving their arms and loading luggage - of the people inside, chattering, laughing, living blessedly content lives that never felt the taint of hatred or - no. Concentrate on-

Tohma was taking him home. After everything - a blur of officials, of soberly sympathetic men and women interviewing him, of his 'innocence' being proven, hah! - he could finally go home. He could go home.

Strange, how he ached to return to the place he had always fled from. But now he just wanted to go home, and seal the outside world away. Forever.

* * *

Bookworm  
By Aishiteru  
Vignette: Muse of Mine

* * *

He tried to seal the world away, but his memories taunted him mercilessly.

_"Eiri, language is the most important thing. Without language we wouldn't be able to communicate anything. So, even if you'll always speak English with a Japanese accent - which I doubt - you need to know how to express yourself. And in Japanese as well."_

Shut up. Shut up.

_"I'm not mad at all."_

Liar! 

_"Eiri, isn't this what you've always wanted? Weren't you attracted to me?"_

No! Not like this...

"_You're a good boy..."_

Never like this.

Language, language, the language was constantly racing through his fevered mind. Everything they had said and did repeated mindlessly, endlessly. He had no rest. There was no rest for him.

_"No rest for the wicked, Eiri-kun!"_

Cheerful, scolding, affectionate. That was the worst.

_"After you."_

Or maybe not. He could never decide which was the worst.

_"I'm not mad at all."_

In the end, the actions had spoken louder then anything Yuki had said. Yuki. Yuki, Yuki. Kitazawa Yuki.

And Eiri would huddle in on himself, tighter and tighter, his breaths coming hard and fast, and the conversations of sunny days would reel wildly through his mind, and he replied as best as he could. 

_"One day, Eiri, I'm going to write a book. A great book. You'll see."_

"A book, sensei. What kind."

_"A romance novel. People think they're such trash, but in the end, the only stories worth telling are love stories. The interactions between people is what makes the world go around."_

"I though gravity did that sensei." His mouth was dry from the endless repetition.

_"You're so funny, Eiri-kun. Hahaha."_

Cue the delighted giggle. It wouldn't come. "I'm sorry sensei. I truly believe in you. You'll write a classic, I know it."

_"And you'll be the first one to read it, right Eiri-kun?" _

"Of course."

He didn't realize what he was doing - the pen was in his hands, and Yuki's voice was in his head, dictating in his measured teasing way. It was all so natural for him to write it down - they had worked that way for so long, Yuki concentrating only on his inspiration, while Eiri patiently wrote everything down, and was in prime position to be the first to read it. They had spent infinite days doing this - in the park in summer, bathed in sunshine, in Yuki or Tohma's apartment in winter, enveloped in the warmth of companionship during those still cold days. It was good practice for Eiri's English after all.

So he snatched up a pen and wrote, on anything and everything, working feverishly. He had to get the words down; who knew when Sensei would have inspiration again? 

_"My muse has deserted me, Eiri-kun."_

Such weary words, and they always ended the spell of delicate scribbled words. And then, as always, Eiri was finally free to properly appreciate what Yuki (_they) _had written. He choked.

Long chains of words, scrawled in black, red, blue pen, bruising the clean white walls of his bedroom, on the desk, on the drawers, everywhere. There was the acid taste of bile mingled with the sharp metallic bite of blood in his mouth, and he was screaming his rage, pounding wildly at the walls, tearing at the table, and bashing at it helplessly with whatever came at hand, anything, anything to erase those words. Everywhere was the ruin of his life, of Yuki's life, of- 

Their story. Yuki's story. 

Eventually he was overcome with dizziness and the exhaustion of not eating or sleeping for several days. Eiri slumped brokenly in the wreckage, suffocating on his own blood. 

And that was how Tohma and Mika found him when they finally managed to break the door down.

* * *

After that, it was like a fire had been lit in him. He stayed in his repaired room, and wrote in a fury. It was always Yuki's voice in his head - that kind gentle lying voice. Endless scenarios. He stripped what had happened in New York (_our story) _down to the bare minimals. He took away the question of gender. He took away their ages. 

He took everything away except their own true selves.

_You took everything away._

And Eiri wrote, and he wrote, and their story played out a million, billion, trillion times before he understood.

It was his fault. All along he had driven Yuki to it. 

_I was responsible for all of this, and then I killed him. _

And Eiri cried. 

* * *

Eventually, it seemed that he had come to - well not a peace, but a precarious balance in himself. He didn't stop crying, but at least the tears weren't constantly blinding him, and what had seemed endless was really finite. He was sixteen years old, but he felt ancient, and he had written a book. Several books really, but it was all the same old song, echoing in variation. _Da capo al fine._ Sometimes on particularly bad days he would take out all that they had written, and read. It was Sensei's voice, Sensei's romantic overtones that pervaded the scribbled script. Sometimes it was Eiri's only comfort.

More often, it was his penance.

And one day - one not particularly special day - he could read the whole manuscript without tears clouding his eyes, or blood clogging his throat. 

He was sixteen. He slowly - well, not healed, that would not happen for real, not until the bitterness and jaded sense of the world had really set in, at all of twenty-two years of age, ready for a pink haired idiot to shatter his realizations. But. He began to live with his new self. He sealed the manuscript, the photos, and the memories away, as best as he could, releasing them only in his worst moments. And then he would write.

Surely they noticed it too - the caustic remarks, the cold comments, the hours spent alone. But no one said a word, and he was growing up, wasn't he? They weren't responsible for him much longer. Or so he told himself. 

His voice broke. He grew taller. He graduated, went to college, was antisocial and didn't make any friends despite the fact that people flocked to him for his beauty. They were soon turned off by his personality. He was ice. Snow. _Yuki._

Ah, god, it made him laugh.

And one day he considered what he was going to do. Such a bright and shining future Uesugi-kun has. Everyone said so. If only he would _open _up more, _share _more of himself.....

Two years worth of counseling, paid through the nose by Tohma hadn't done a thing. 

Well, what could he really do? He hated talking to idiots, which included most of the human population, although Eiri could be charming when he felt like it. In fact, it amused him, to charm others, then slam the rude door of his reality in their faces. It was a game that broke up the pointlessness of his life some what. A pointless life that was soon going to end in poverty if he didn't do something.

So he ended up doing what Eiri always, however grudgingly does in difficulty. He talked to Tohma. 

His brother-in-law smiled that deceivingly benign smile of his. "What do you do best, Eiri-san? What do you do with your time ordinarily anyway?"

Unspoken was the promise between them - that Tohma would always take care of him anyway. He didn't have to do anything really. 

So he sat in his room, stewed in his resentment that the older man would always be there, his resentment and mingled relief. He really hated Tohma sometimes.

What did he do best, anyway?

_Cause trouble, _his father's voice barked in his head. 

Besides that.

Nothing. Nothing at all. He didn't want to think about it.

He went and got drunk for a couple of days, and slept around. Plenty of people to do that with, when you had Uesugi Eiri's good looks and unusual coloring. 

And when he came back home, head throbbing, and irritable as usual, he found Tohma. And a manuscript, neatly typed up, sitting on the table.

Strange, he could still remember the precise details of that morning - the way the morning sunlight stabbed in dazzling bursts into his grainy eyes, off the glass table, the polished wooden flooring. Dazzling reflected off the crisp folds of Tohma's immaculate clothing - dark hued and green, brilliant blue shirt, all designed to bring out the colour of his eyes. Long slender fingers clasped together, sheathed in dark leather, resting by the letter slashed papers. 

"What's this? Going into the publishing business now, Tohma?" he had quipped.

Tohma had smiled. The perfect opening, and Eiri had offered it without thinking. "Not me, Eiri-san. You."

"Me?" A growl, but there was no real surprise. He had known what that manuscript was already, in his heart. 

"I've contacted a friend of mine. They'd be delighted to publish, but." A short pause, and a quiet flick of pale blonde hair out of his eyes. "But I suggest you take a pen name. Because of your youth. And especially with that sort of subject. Or for you to change the names of your characters a little, perhaps."

Eiri snorted, and retreated into his room.

Damn Tohma. 

He thought about it for a while.

He hauled his copy of their story out of storage. From the bottom of the cupboard, in a dust covered shoe box actually. It didn't look particularly disturbed, but he didn't bother wondering how Tohma had managed to copy it. 

He read through the whole lot dispassionately, selected the most generic version, and made the occasional change, tweaked the odd incoherent phrase here and there back into coherency, dissecting the language. And when it was finished, when everything was neat and ordered, and he had typed it out himself, and printed off multiple copies, he stacked them into different boxes, and addressed them to various publishers. If he was going to do this, he wasn't going to be beholden to Tohma. Again.

_Stubborn, aren't you, Eiri-kun. _Husky whisper, lurking presence in the back of his mind. Still with him even after all the years. 

All that was left was a name. In reality, he had known what it would be all the time, during the preparation.

With a bitter laugh, he picked up his pen, and scrawled the kana down - a merging of names that was far more appropriate then his birth christening. 

He looked down at the words. _Yuki Eiri. _Black etched on white.

"After all." he said, leaning back in his seat, and staring at the ceiling. It was as good a place to stare as any. "We wrote this together. Didn't we."

"Sensei."

* * *

_Author's Note:...........Ooookay, that was crappy. It was originally supposed to be in one of the two chapters of bookworm, but all that WAFF simply crowded it out. This was the angst component. But it's crappy. It's beyond crappy, but it's a part of Bookworm, and I though you'd all like to know what's been stopping me from writing that promises Nittle Grasper's beginnings fic. Apart from Tohma's OOC'ness anyways. *grumps*. Tohma's a lump to write about for the whole story. And Ryuuichi is as well. Maybe I'll give it a go from Noriko's POV....Argh. Scrap that. They're all hard!_

_Anyway, it has a title now. "Dragon's Fame." Should be a couple of one shot wonders, of how they meet, the rise to fame, what they do once they're famous, the writing of Sleepless Beauty, and the break up. Possibly the return. Who knows? I'll see if I can get cracking on it. I wrote some crap about Tohma's childhood, but blech. Into the recycling you go, first draft. _

_Anyway, flames will be duly accepted. This vignette was definitely substandard, but at least it's out of my head now, and I can actually try to write well for Ryuuichi and Tohma. Urgh, and did you catch the Moulin Rouge phrases? That's what happens when I watch DVDs.....Actually when I was writing 'their story' I was more thinking of Tidus...I'm so unoriginal. Oh well. That's why I'm writing fanfiction - I don't have to check myself so much. In original work, I have to be careful. Blech. _

_Review replies:_

_Thanks everyone, for your reviews! Apologies to everyone who reviewed on the gurabiteshiyon.net site; I didn't reply to the first chapter on that. I'll reply to you all now, k? _

_Thanks for all your compliments, you silver tongued reviewers! And all your critiques are muchly appreciated. _

_**FF.net reviews:**_

_novasenshi: Thanks, glad to hear that you liked Yuki's stories. I don't know about sexy though...o.O And really, I did write about what Yuki said about Shuichi in the last book! I did!_

_Megamie: Yup, I'll leave it to the Gravi fans imaginations. ^__^._

_Leifang: ^_________^. YAY! I like it when I manage to characters in character. They're so icky when they're not. _

_Little Kaori: Well, here's sort of more....even though it's icky. _

_Shenya: Thanks. I thought the pacing was a bit abrupt at the end too, but I just couldn't think of any other way to end it. _

_Natascha: Heh. considering I pretty much just borrowed the storylines of Gravi....But that's what everyone wanted I think. I tried doing something different with the second chapter with Yuki's novels in the first version, and my beta reader said, "ICK." So, I went back to rewriting Gravi. _

_Blueraingirl: ^______^! Well, this isn't really a continuation, as much as it is an expansion. _

_Kiora: YOU HENTAI!!! XD. These innocent eyes have only seen the Gravi anime, and not the manga. I hear that is much more explicit though.....o.O Heh, I'll see what I can do about Y/S fluff, though the first two chapters were fluffy enough. Maybe a one shot wonder...no. I have to work on the Nittle Grasper fic....*chants*. Heh. I hope I can get Ryuuichi IC again. It's hard to make him just hyper enough, but not too hyper...._

_panatlantic, Angel Tomoe Hotaru, kazuki: Hee, you should hopefully get some more of Ryuuichi soon. Sorry for the triple reply. T_T. _

_Kamikakushi: *blush* Thank you. And yes, I adore Ryuuichi. Almost as much as Yuki. Well, maybe the same, in a different way...*the fangirl has reappeared* Well, I never go away really..._

_Windsong: ^___________^. Thanks for putting me on your favourites! It makes me so happy when people do that. I hope you're better now._

_LB: O.O *i.e horrified wide eyes death looks of Aishiteru* NOT SEEN GRAVI!!!!!!!!????? ARRRGH!!!!!!!!!!_

_Katsumi: ^__________________^. (jeez, the Totoro smiled just seem to get larger and larger as I reply, don't they?) Thank you. And originally, they weren't supposed to be in McDonalds, they were supposed to be in the Japanese version, Lotteria as I seem to remember it's called. But, too much confusion, not enough people would know what that is, I think. Even though they make the best teriyaki chicken burger....*mouth waters*. So hence, McDonalds! ..........I know, I know, it doesn't really matter. XD. My mind works in strange ways. Anyway, I'm really looking forward to the next chapter of Hitori. It really sucks when schoolwork gets in the way of writing, doesn't it? _

_Ayako: XD. I couldn't believe I finished, and looks like Yuki wasn't finished with me. I TRIED to get cracking on the NG fic, I really did. Too bad everything I tried to write, Yuki kept getting in the way, and it turned to absolute bollocks. Hee hee, English slang! I'm so immature, I know..._

_Leina: Yup, there should be more from me in the Gravi section, it's such an addictive genre, and there's so much you can do. Yay for Ryu-chan!_

_apsik: The WAFF....Oh no....I can't believe it's WAFF! The next ones should be a little sadder, as they're about NG. _

_Celeste, Tinki-chan, Lynne: Cute, Cute, Sweet. Awwww. Thanks guys. Glad to see I could get the WAFF inspired in you. ^____________________^. Sorry for the group reply..._

_Gurabiteshiyon.net readers:_

_TeeDee: Thanks. *blush* Adorable, huh? I should hope there's no spelling errors - I know my spelling has deteriorated since Year 6, but I'm still okay most of the time. And I did use spell check. *beams*. _

_Hiei: This site is pretty cool too, isn't it? For all Gravi fic addicts. _

_Anahita: All things must come to an end....XD. _

_Andrea: 3 times!? Wow...That makes me feel special. _

_Desperado Surgoi: I tried my best to make the IC. And yes, K's Engrish amuses me endlessly. _

_nik: Oh? I don't think you're stupid....You're reading aren't you? Maybe it is a little confusing...Shuuichi's upset because Yuki wrote all those books, and he feels bad because he hasn't read any of them, whereas Yuki goes to all his concerts...Or he does in my version of the Gravi world. Or, if the bit earlier, it's because Yuki says that only the annoying aspects of his character are based on Shuuichi. _

_Anomay: Heh, more in depth with how he copes. But it's icky. T_T. Oh well, crazy Yuki served. Thank you for all the compliments *gets pin to pop head back down to normal size* Anyway, I make mistakes on my reviews all the time, and it's so embarrassing, isn't it?_


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